


I Don't Deserve It

by WordsCreatedWorlds



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Derek Hale, Blood and Violence, But He Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dead Allison Argent, Depressed Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Helps Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Uses His Words, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Getting Together, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Original villain - Freeform, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Season/Series 03, Scott is trying his best, Stiles Stilinski & Malia Tate Friendship, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Underage Kissing, Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Live, minor torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-21 13:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsCreatedWorlds/pseuds/WordsCreatedWorlds
Summary: After the defeat of the Nogitsune, Stiles struggles to face what he’s done. Their faces haunt him, and his friends’ grief feels like a knife to the chest. What is Stiles supposed to say when Derek of all people is the only thing keeping him sane? Moving on is hard when revenge is at play.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read! Thanks for reading!

**Chapter One**

Stiles felt like he couldn't breath. The crushing weight of his guilt and fear. The Nogitsune was gone, but he still could feel the place in his mind where it had taken over. He closed his eyes, but all he saw was death. The blood. The bodies. Allison.

He should have taken her place. She didn't have the body count he did. She was so loved, and she deserved it. How could he ever face Scott or Lydia? He was responsible for the loss of a first love and a best friend. If it had been Scott, god forbid, he'd of gone insane. Guilt washed over him. Stiles thought himself horrible for valuing who he was close to more. Maybe he should of gone insane anyway. Was he more crazy for still being here?

Stiles hears a soft knock and his door click open, "Hey kiddo." His dad's voice was gentle and cautious. Stiles couldn't look at him. He was horrified that his dad had seen him while he was possessed. He feels the bed dip as his dad sit beside his legs. "I know you're gonna need some time after everything, but know that I'm here for you. Anything you need. I'm so glad you're ok." Stiles felt sick. Was he ok? Could he ever be ok again? His dad seemed to understand that Stiles wasn't going to respond. He got up, patting Stiles gently on the leg before leaving him alone again.

Stiles wanted to tell his dad thank you, wanted to reach out and take comfort in his last remaining family. But he couldn't. He felt like he was trapped in his own skin, heavy and tight.

-

Scott and Lydia come the next day. He figures his dad called them. Stiles can't do much but stare blankly between them. He thinks Lydia's eyes look a bit more hollow than they did before. Scott is much less subtle. Stiles feels gutted when he sees the puffy, red skin around Scott's eyes.

They talk to him for awhile. They try to tell him how he wasn't responsible for any of it. Stiles just nods weakly. After about an hour, they give him gentle hugs and leave.

Stiles sits alone again. He gets up at some point, it feels late, and decides he's going to shower. He turns the heat up until his pale skin practically glows red. It does nothing to reach the bone-deep chill he's felt since that first nightmare. He walks back to his room, pulling on thick pajama pants and his red hoodie. He glances at his investigation wall. The red yarn and tacks still hanging limply. A spark of anger flares up in his chest. He tears at the strings, ripping them from the wall. They scatter the floor around him.

Stiles sighs and turns to go back to his bed. He lets out a sharp yelp as he feels a tack stick into his heel. He limps over to his bed, carefully pulling his foot up to see. The tack was pressed flat into his heel. He winced as he pinched it, pulling it out slowly. Blood dripped from the small puncture. His eyes seemed transfixed on the slow droplet forming.

The familiar squeak of his window pulled his attention from the red streaking down his heel. Stiles' eyes met Derek Hale's. He would have questioned why he was climbing through his window in the middle of the night, but he couldn't find the words. Maybe he just couldn't find the motivation to speak. Derek seemed to notice this after a minute, expecting the boy to have much more to say. Stiles saw Derek's expression twist up as he caught a smell in the air.

"Are you bleeding?" Derek looked at him with.. concern? Stiles must really be out of it.

He shrugs and points to the bloody pin on his side table. Derek glances between the tack and the foot Stiles had twisted into his lap. He sighed and grabbed a tissue from Stiles' desk, handing it to him. Stiles pressed it to his heel, looking back up at Derek.

"I wanted to see how you were handling everything," Derek says in a blank tone. Something in Stiles snaps.

"How I'm _handling everything_?" his voice was dripping in malice, "Everything being torturing and killing people I love and killing half the police department? Oh, I'm doing fan- _tastic_!"

Derek didn't react, like he expected this. It made Stiles angry.

"Nothing to say? Everyone's been trying to cheer me up. Tell me I didn't do it. That I was being controlled. That I couldn't have one anything to stop it. That it wasn't my fault. But ya know? I already know that. I'm _deeply_ aware that I had no choice in the matter. I _know,_ " his voice breaks at the end. "I know..." he whispers softly. 

Derek crossed the room over to him, kneeling down to meet his eyes. "I know how you're feeling. You're scared and you feel helpless. I've been there. I know what it's like to have choices you make hurt people you love," he spoke forcefully, but there was a caring edge to his words.

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a choked sob. Stiles cried. No, he sobbed. He hadn't broken down like this yet. Stiles felt embarrassment burn his cheeks as Derek watched him, but he couldn't stop once the seal broke.

To his surprise, Derek gripped his arm comfortingly. Stiles pressed his palms to his eyes.

"I can't do anything right! I'm just the useless human. I'm so afraid all the time! I just get people hurt, or _I_ hurt them!" Stiles sobbed into his hands.

"That's not true, Stiles. Scott's pack would have died countless times without him. Hell, I would have died a few times had it not been for you. You're brave, and that doesn't come without fear," Derek spoke earnestly. Stiles was stunned by his efforts to comfort him.

"You don't have to do this... I know we're not exactly, well, friends," Stiles mumbled.

Derek sighed, "I know. I haven't been the easiest to work with."

Stiles laughed softly, which felt so foreign to him, "Understatement of the century."

Derek rolls his eyes. He gets up and sits beside Stiles. "I was a bad alpha. I know that. Erica and Boyd barely survived the alpha pack, and that was after I pushed all of them away. I didn't know how to lead them. I get people hurt. I have my entire life," Derek avoided Stiles' eyes s he spoke, "Honestly? I'm glad I lost the power."

Stiles looks at him carefully. He'd never seen this side of Derek. He was so, vulnerable.

"I know it's hard to face them right now, but I know how hard being alone is after... Anyway, if you want someone to talk to or just to be around, I'm here," Derek didn't look at him.

"Someone to fill the void?" Stiles smirks and scoffs. Derek smiles a little.

"Ya. Fill the void," Derek stands up.

"I don't deserve it ya know?" Stiles presses his lips together into a thin line.

"There's no such thing as _deserve,_ " Derek says plainly as he leaves the same way he came.

Stiles falls back against his bed. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about what just happened. Maybe he was hallucinating? The concept of not trusting reality sent a shiver down his spine.

-

_He fell asleep and found himself in Eichen House. The door locked and refusing to left him out. He heard a cold laugh behind him. Stiles turned slowly and found himself strapped to the bed across from him, but he didn't recognize this version of himself. Deep purple bags settled under the figure's eyes. He wore a wicked smile, and his gaze was fixed on Stiles._

_"Fill the void? You can never fill the void! You are the void," the voiced boomed loudly in his ears causing Stiles to wince and turn back to the door. He banged on the solid metal, screaming for them to let him out._

_"You know what you deserve, Stiles," the voice rang out behind him, "You know what they should do with you."_

_Suddenly, Stiles was laying on the hard mattress. His arms and legs were bound. Stiles thrashed and struggled against the cuffs. He screamed until his lungs hurt and his throat was raw._

_The figure, the warped version of himself, leaned over his face, "You belong here. You. Are. Void."_

Stiles woke up screaming. His dad wrapped him tightly in his arms, as Stiles sobbed. He felt his heart racing in his chest and thumping loudly in his ears. Stiles eventually calmed down, sinking into his dad's arms. He glanced around the room, but his eyes fell on the tack on his side table. The blood was dark and dried now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Stiles moved around his room like the undead. He hadn't had a full night of sleep in weeks. His limbs hurt, but he pushed past the dull ache that lingered throughout his body. He was grateful they were on break because he couldn't begin to comprehend going to school yet.

He didn't leave his room. He barely left his bed. His dad would bring him food when he was home, but Stiles only picked at it at most.

Derek came again a couple days after his first unexpected visit.

"You look terrible," Derek looked at him with unmasked concern.

Stiles offered a joyless smile, "Thanks. I've been really focused on my appearance lately." He turned over in bed, facing the wall.

"Are you getting any sleep?" Stiles couldn't see him, but he could hear him step closer.

"Oh I'm getting a solid seven to eight every night. Minutes that is," Stiles pressed hi face into the pillow, hoping he could will Derek away.

No such luck.

Derek sat tentatively at the foot of the bed, "Can I do anything?" His voice sounded so gentle. It made Stiles wince.

He sat up and faced him. Derek was slightly closer than he expected.

"Why are you here? I'm not looking for a shoulder to cry on. Just leave me alone," Stiles glared, but his eyes were too tired to put any real emotion behind it.

Derek stared at him for a minute, neither breaking eye contact, "No."

Stiles furrowed his brows. He didn't expect such a plain rejection, "No?"

"No," Derek repeated simply. He was beginning to look a little smug, like he was proud of himself.

Stiles looked at him, confusion plastered across his face. He gave a defeated sigh and fell back against his pillow.

"Now, are you going to let me help you?" Stiles could feel Derek's eyes still trained on him.

"Fine. Do whatever you want. Follow me around if you want. You'll get bored pretty fast," Stiles mumbled.

"Your scent is so strong in here. You haven't left in awhile I'm guessing?" Derek looked around and took in the details. There was a few dishes stacked on his dresser. The investigation board was still littering the floor like the last time he was there. Clothes were starting to pile high in the hamper.

"Farther I go; the more I have to face," Stiles answered honestly. His throat tightened slightly.

"What are you afraid to face?" Derek questioned softly.

Stiles swallowed hard, "All of them. Everyone who loved the people I hurt.. or killed." Stiles felt his eyes getting wet, and his vision begun getting blurry. "Oh god..." he muttered in a horrified whisper, "What if I have to see Mr. Argent?" The words barely slipped out as he broke into a heavy sob.

Derek rested a hand on his shoulder as Stiles crumbled in front of him.

"No one blames you, Stiles," Derek tries to reassure him.

"But they'll see him! He wore my face and dragged me around, hurting everyone I care about. Now he's gone, but I'm left with the mask he used. I can barely look in the mirror. I don't know if I will ever see myself looking back again," Stiles' eyes were wide, and his heart was beating harder.

Derek heard the change, noticing how his breath became more rapid, "Stiles, listen to me, you're having a panic attack." He looked at him with worry clear in his eyes. Derek gripped his arms and tried to steady him.

"I- I can't. I can't see any of them. I can't leave," Stiles started rambling.

Derek began to take some of Stiles' pain, surprised and saddened to find so much there. Stiles began to relax, and his breathing evened out after a couple minutes.

Stiles looked at him in slight awe, "How did you do that?"

"I just took some of your pain. I thought it might help you relax and calm you down. I didn't realize how much pain you were in," Derek leaned closer, but Stiles shrunk away. Derek paused and sat back again.

"It's nothing. Just been kinda achy lately. Probably just tense from lack of sleep and nerves," Stiles brushed off his concern. He looked at Derek and noticed how much he was trying to help. Stiles felt the guilt tighten in his chest. "Thank you. I'm sorry," he looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

Derek nodded silently, "It's going to take awhile."

"Before, I feel better?" Stiles studied his hands.

"Before you can start to heal."

Derek stayed for another hour or so. Stiles wasn't much for conversation but neither was Derek. However, when Derek did finally leave, Stiles was starting to feel like he could breath again. Even it was just for a little while.

-

Derek starts coming more consistently, always climbing through the window like that was its intended purpose. Stiles begins to expect him, starts waiting for him.

They talk about what Stiles is feeling. When it starts to effect him, Derek always seems to know. He talks him back from flashbacks, through panic attacks, and pulls him closer when Stiles needs to lean on someone.

Stiles questions how he always knows, sometimes before even he realizes he's starting to panic. 

Derek shrugs, "Just a feeling I guess." Stiles just looks at him with more curiosity, but Derek changes the subject.

-

After a week, Stiles wakes up, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes. He pushes himself out of bed before he can talk himself out of it.

He hears his dad's footsteps moving around the kitchen, the soft click of the coffee machine turning on, and the sharp _ding_ of the toaster. His steps are hesitant and careful as he makes his way downstairs. Turning the corner, he stops in the doorway. His dad looks up from his fresh mug with surprise.

"Hey, kiddo. Good morning," his dad offers a soft smile, trying not to overwhelm Stiles and scare him off.

"Hey," Stiles gives a small nod and moves towards the coffee pot. The rich smell being too enticing to ignore.

They sat at the table, eating toast and slowly sipping their coffee. It was quiet, but not as tense as Stiles expected. It wasn't much, but it was a step in the right direction.

Stiles was about to push away from the table, pressing his palms into the wooden edge, when his dad spoke up.

His voice was cautious, laced with nerves and worry, "Stiles, you know... you know you can talk to me about anything right? I know how hard things have been. I know that it'll take time to work through all that." Noah seemed to pause for a moment, thinking his next words through carefully, "I just don't want to lose you."

His face was soft, but hard lines settled on his forehead. Stiles heart dropped. The familiar panic started to bubble up in his chest. He pressed it down and took a deep breath.

"You won't. I wouldn't... I couldn't do that to you," Stiles spoke firmly, trying to reassure his father. He never expected he'd have to have this conversation, but, he thinks, maybe it shouldn't be such a surprise given his recent behavior.

Noah's eyebrows furrowed, like he was unsatisfied with Stiles' answer. Stiles looked at him with confusion.

"But this isn't about me. This isn't what you couldn't do to me. I want to know if you'd do that to yourself," Noah's words seemed to pain him.

Stiles felt a weight settle over him. He sighed and looked away from his dad, unable to continue looking at the pain he was causing. _Always causing..._ he thought.

"No. At least I don't think so," Stiles felt like his skin itched with nerves. He couldn't stay much longer. The panic was starting to grip at his throat. He gave a dry laugh and forced a tight smile, "Looks like you're stuck with me."

Noah gave him a stern look, but he softened in some relief. He came over and pulled Stiles into a tight hug. Stiles was still for only a moment before collapsing into his father. His eyes became blurred with tears, but he didn't let them fall.

After a minute or so, they parted. Noah grabbed his coat, giving Stiles one more smile before heading out to work.

Stiles stood in the empty kitchen. He suddenly felt cold, a bone deep chill. He wanted to be back in bed, comfortable and safe, but he sunk to the floor, his back pressing into the kitchen cabinets. He let out silent sobs and shook his entire body. Stiles curled his knees tightly to his chest.

Not long after, he felt a heavy hand settle on his shoulder. It was grounding, like it gave him a bit of strength through the simple touch. Stiles raised his head to see what he already suspected, Derek.

Derek offered a sympathetic smile. Stiles held no hesitation as he reached out to the man. He wrapped his arms tightly around Derek's neck, burying his face into his shoulder.

Derek carefully wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, holding him steady.

Stiles finally felt the chill slip away.

-

He spends his seventeenth birthday in bed. His friends send him kind messages all day. Stiles can barely move. His dad took the day off and comes in a few times to check on him, but Stiles can't bring himself to say much of anything.

Celebrating moving forward another year in life feels so wrong. So cruel.

_Allison was seventeen when she died._

Derek comes by. He sits on the edge of his bed in silence. Stiles feels like he he understands, but it's not enough that day. Derek can't fix this hurt. He just has to survive the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Stiles was afraid his breakdown would have finally scared Derek off. He'd seen him have a panic attack before. It's not like they were uncommon these days, but he'd never fallen into him like that. He'd never seen Derek as such a source of comfort. Stiles thought that may of freaked him out.

But there he was. Night after night. Stiles expected him now. It'd been almost two weeks now that he'd climbed through his window, each time staying for a couple hours. They didn't talk much at first, but now it was like Stiles couldn't wait to start talking to the man. Derek had begun talking more too, which was surprising, but he still mostly sat and listened. Stiles wondered if he and Derek were actually getting closer. He thinks he might just miss Scott. He hadn't talked to his best friend since he came over briefly with Lydia. Stiles just couldn't face them yet. He could barely face his home outside of his room.

Stiles paced his room anxiously. It was cleaner than it had been. The laundry was done, dishes gone, and the mess under his investigation board was absent. He looked at the clock on his nightstand.

_9:17_

Derek was late. Not that they had a set appointment or anything. Stiles had just gotten used to him showing up around eight.

_Maybe he's not coming tonight?_ The thought made his chest ache. 

Before he could question why that is, he heard the familiar squeak of his window, and the nervous seemed to fade all at once.

"Are you ok?" Derek studied him slightly. Stiles was fidgety and looked concerned about something. When Stiles met his eyes, he seemed to relax, but there was a bit of embarrassment mixed in.

"Fine, you're just..." Stiles trailed off, averting his eyes. Derek looked at him skeptically, then realization crossed him face. A small smile flashed for just a moment before vanishing.

"I'm late," Derek said like it should have been obvious. Stiles rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably.

"It's not like we have a set time. I just.. I was starting to wonder if you weren't coming today," Stiles mumbled, his ears turning slightly pink.

"I'm sorry," Stiles' head snapped up to look at him, "I got held up at the loft." Stiles looked at him curiously, and Derek sighed. "Erica and Boyd decided to come over and do a dinner thing. I got stuck with cooking and the dishes. I'm not really sure what I got out of it."

Stiles felt his heart flutter slightly. _Derek cooking._ He pushed the thought from his mind.

"Are they over a lot?" Stiles wondered aloud. He wasn't sure what Derek did outside of their nightly visits. What did a day in the life of Derek Hale look like?

"Too often. I can't go more than two days without those two invading," Derek grumbled, but Stiles could tell he wasn't actually angry about it. He'd seen Derek angry. There was usually much more teeth.

Stiles couldn't stop himself from smiling at the thought of Derek's former pack still following their 'alpha', even if they were all Scott's betas now. Was Derek Scott's beta? He had to be in the pack, right? Stiles realized he wasn't sure where the two stood with each other. He knew Derek would follow Scott. Derek may act big and scary, ok maybe he was, but he could see how much respect he held for Scott as a True Alpha. But Scott... Stiles wasn't sure Scott really saw Derek for who he is.

Derek was looking at him like he was trying to get a glimpse inside his mind. Stiles still didn't talk as much as used to, but Derek was starting to see his personality slowly coming back. The spark was slowly returning to life behind his eyes.

"You should come over," Derek suggested suddenly. Stiles starred at him, mouth slightly agape. "It would be good for you. You never leave this place anymore. Erica and Boyd are the only ones that ever come over. Even Peter's been who knows where. He just said he'd _been enlightened to a new development that required more investigation_ , which I should probably be worried about, but he can be so damn frustrating. Anyway, you wouldn't have to see anyone you're not ready to face yet," Derek explained.

Stiles was ready to protest, to give some sort of excuse, but nothing came. He thought for a minute, _it would be nice to be somewhere other than this room. Plus, Scott and Lydia wouldn't ever go there without a reason. Dad would be happy I was getting out._

"Ok," Stiles said simply. His skin itched uncomfortably at the thought of leaving, but he pushed the feeling down. It almost looked like Derek was going to smile, but he settled on a content nod.

"Tomorrow then," Derek less suggests and more commands. 

"Tomorrow?" Stiles' uneasy feeling welled up more at the very real, now quickly approaching, venture.

"Tomorrow," he confirmed firmly.

Stiles nodded and looked at his hands, twisting the fabric of his sleeves in his fists. He knew he couldn't stay here forever, wandering between his room and the kitchen, but the world outside these walls didn't seem the same anymore. It was scarier, filled with pain and guilt.

"It'll be ok. Come around five. You can leave whenever you want," Derek's voice was calming. Stiles had been talked down from countless panic attacks with that voice. He knew he could trust it.

"Tomorrow. Five. I'll be there," Stiles agreed. This time, Derek did smile.

-

_5:47_

Stiles sat in his Jeep. In the driveway. At his house.

He'd been sitting there since 4:30. He felt like he was frozen. He'd made this drive before, dozens of times, but he was terrified.

_Knock. Knock._

Stiles' head snapped to the window. Derek was looking down at him. Stiles felt himself shrink a little. He rolled down the window.

"You're late."

"Just making us even, I guess," Stiles tried to joke, but his voice came out small and nervous.

"What's wrong?" Derek didn't seem angry. Stiles still felt bad.

"I can't seem to get myself to move," Stiles sighed and leaned back into his seat.

Derek stared at him for a moment. Then the door was opening. Stiles looked confused briefly before being lifted out of the car. He scrabbled in the man's arms.

"What are you doing?!" Stiles tried to push away, but Derek walked him around the car and dumped him in the passenger side.

"Driving," Derek said, walking back over and climbing into the driver's seat.

"What?" Stiles looked at him with bewilderment. Derek just turned the keys and pulled out of the driveway. 

Stiles huffed and settled into the seat, "What about your car?" Stiles glanced back but didn't find the Camaro. "Wait, where's you car?"

"Back at the loft?" Derek said like it should be obvious.

"How'd you get here?" Stiles cocked his head slightly.

"Ran. Always do. I like the air," Derek shrugged.

Stiles furrowed his brows, "Seriously?" Derek just glanced at him. Stiles lost it.

He made a strangled sound before laughing loudly. He laughed until his lungs hurt, and he couldn't breath. Tears beginning to form in the corners of this eyes.

"That's just so... _you_. You totally would just run to my house every night and climb through my window. God you're so weird," Stiles shook his head and sighed softly. His head rolled to the side, glancing at Derek. He expected a huffy, irritated reaction. All Stiles found was a soft smile and red ears. Derek glanced over with such fondness. It made Stiles' heart do a little flip in his chest.

They sat in silence for the next couple minutes before Derek arrived at the loft and parked. Stiles knew he should stop thinking about that fond smile, but his mind was fixated. _What was Derek thinking?_

"We should head up. You've spent enough time in the car today," Derek glanced over.

"Ok, but this time I can get myself out. No need for the bridal-style routine," Stiles smirked and pushed himself out of the jeep.

Derek rolled his eyes and followed.

The two stood silently in the elevator. Stiles watched the button light click out as they reached the right floor.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he looked out at the loft. Last time he'd been there, Chris Argent held a gun to him as he encouraged a fight between his dad and him.

Derek rested a hand on his shoulder, and his shoulders relaxed a bit. Stiles walked into the open room. There was a bit more furniture, and a tv finally graced the floorplan. Stiles guessed the betas pestered him to make the loft more enjoyable to hang out at. He smiled at the thought of Derek picking out a couch and chairs to fit them all comfortably.

Overall, the loft looked much more like a home than it had just a few weeks ago. The kitchen had new appliances. There were a few rugs around the space and a table and chairs near the kitchen. He noticed a few books on the coffee table. Stiles hadn't considered how little time Derek had to settle into his new home. How long had it been since he had a proper home? The burnt out shell of his childhood home and the train car weren't exactly cozy. Things had settled down since they took down the Nogitsune. Routines were being established. Stiles suddenly felt like the world was moving on without him. Was he holding them back?

"Do you want anything? I can get you some water," Stiles' spiral was interrupted by Derek, who was looking at him like he'd crumble any moment now.

"No, no. I'm fine thanks," Stiles shifted on his feet awkwardly. Derek wasn't looking any more comfortable. They stood in silence, tension growing in the room. Stiles was about to cut and run, when the _ding_ of the elevator captured both of their attention.

Erica strolled into the space with a casual confidence, followed by the quietly observant Boyd.

"Oh, Stiles. Didn't expect you to be here. Derek's the one who's usually out stalking you," Erica didn't break her stride as she passed the two and flopped onto the couch.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek, who gave a miserable sigh. "I've told you a million time; I'm not stalking Stiles. I've been.. checking in on him," Derek huffed.

Stiles broke out into a wide grin, "I don't know Derek, climbing through my window every night might qualify as stalking." Erica perked up at the new detail.

"If I was stalking you, you wouldn't know," Derek seemed to instantly regret his choice of defense. The three instantly unraveled into laughter.

"Derek, jesus, that's so creepy," Stiles managed to say through his chest-deep laughter. Boyd agreed with a chuckle.

"God, through his window? I knew you'd been seeing him, but that's just so weird," Erica leaned against Boyd the second he joined her on the couch.

"Did he tell you guys he was checking in on me or something?" Stiles questioned how much Derek had shared about his visits. He suddenly was feeling very self-conscious about his recent behavior.

Derek seemed to catch onto Stiles' increased discomfort, "They smelled you on me. Wouldn't stop asking why I always reeked of you." He gave a small reassuring nod to Stiles, who seemed to relax at this.

"Thought you guys might be screwing or somethin'," Erica shouted over while grabbing the remote. Derek and Stiles immediately dropped eye contact and blush made their ears burn.

"May I remind you that I let you both hang out here whenever you like, but I can change that," Derek bit out at them. Neither reacted, just continued flipping through the channels.

"Ya, ya... you're big and bad. We're terrified," Erica teased while Boyd smirked beside her.

Stiles smiled at the very grumpy looking man. He walked over and plopped down into one of the chairs, "Don't worry, Sourwolf. I won't tell the others you've gone soft."

Derek grumbled but crossed the room to join them.

Erica glances over at Stiles, her eyes softening a little, "Nice to have you around." Boyd gives him a little nod.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, "Nice to be around."

-

Stiles makes a habit of going to the loft every couple days. Erica and Boyd are usually there, and the three quickly get closer. 

Stiles thought that Derek would be sick of him at this point, but he still comes over any night Stiles isn't already at his place. Stiles had never even seen Scott this much, but he wasn't complaining. He felt like Derek was the thing keeping him afloat some days. Maybe Derek knew that, and he felt too bad to admit he needed space? Stiles found that the two of them were getting closer though. Maybe he actually liked spending time with him?

Stiles was settling in for a movie night at the loft when a thought suddenly popped into his head.

_Where's Issac?_

Derek had gone out to pick up dinner for the group, they'd insisted pizza was an important part of movie night. Stiles figured it was a good time to ask the betas where their third was.

Erica and Boyd glanced at each other. Stiles looked between them expectantly.

They explain that when Derek pushed them away, Issac took it the hardest. He desperately needed support and stability in his life after everything with his father. Issac had taken so much comfort in the relationship with Derek as his Alpha. When Derek closed off, after almost losing them to the Alpha pack, Issac was left with nothing. His loyalties shifted to Scott, and now that the McCall's have taken him in, he's more attached than ever. They know Derek feels guilty for how everything went down, but he feels like Issac is better off looking up to Scott. Stiles wonders if the two could ever make up, regain some part of the bond they once shared.

Derek returns and Erica and Boyd immediately shut down the topic. Stiles understands. Derek may seem like Mr. Isolation, but he values pack over everything. The distance between him and Issac but be a sore subject.

They settle in for the movie, munching on pizza and sitting close on the couch. Stiles glances at Derek beside him on the couch. He's known werewolves long enough at this point to know they like closeness. Derek sat just far enough to avoid touching him. Stiles rolls his eyes at how Derek can still be so hesitant with him after they'd gotten so close over the better part of three weeks. He leans over and bumps his shoulder, offering a smile. Derek looks at him slightly confused, but Stiles just tilts his head towards the group. Derek looks a bit surprised but moves over a bit, so their shoulders and knees bump lightly. Stiles gives a content smile, and Derek seems to relax a bit more into the couch.

They watch the movie, and Stiles tries to ignore the warmth he feels in the pit of his stomach at the little touch. When he leaves that night, he has to sit in his jeep for a couple minutes to settle his mind.

-

Stiles laid on his bed the next night, staring at his ceiling. He barely noticed Derek coming in.

"You ok?" Stiles turned to meet concerned eyes.

"Ya, I'm fine. Just- Do you ever feel like you're never fully in control?" Derek searched his eyes for more information. Stiles sighed, "It's nothing. I've just been thinking a lot lately. I feel like at any point I could just slip under again, be drowning in my own mind again, too weak to pull myself up."

Derek sits at the foot of his bed, looking deep in thought.

"I want to be able to help people, do good, protect people rather than hurt them, and be useful," the words start to catch in his throat. Stiles winces at the sound.

"You do help people. You're a good person, Stiles. You've never hurt anyone. That wasn't-"

"Wasn't me. I know," Stiles cuts him off, "I just, I can't be the weakest-"

"You're not the weakest. You're far from useless," Derek interjects this time. His voice is adamant.

Stiles gets quiet for a minute. He sits up quickly and grabs Derek arm. Derek is surprised at the action and stares at him questioningly.

"Teach me to fight. Please? You're like the toughest in the pack. You could help me. Please say yes," Stiles' eyes pleaded with him. Derek furrowed his eyebrows. His eyes were locked onto Stiles'.

"Fine," he sighs. Stiles smiles and perks up.

"Really?" Derek glares at him. "Shutting up now," Stiles presses his lips together, but a smile grows anyway. "Thank you."

"Ya, whatever. Come by the loft tomorrow around nine."

"In the morning?" Stiles begins to whine. His schedule of getting up at noon would have his body protesting strongly to this sudden change.

Derek shot him a firm look, and Stiles threw his hands up in compliance.

"Got it. Got it. Nine a.m. I'll be there," a sly smile peeked out at Derek. The man really was full of surprises.

-

_8:59_

Stiles pushes himself out of his jeep and strides over to the elevator; coffee tray in one hand, a white paper bag in the other.

He taps his foot anxiously as he approaches the loft. When the doors slide open, he's greeted with Derek's very muscular back, as he does pull ups in the door frame across the room. His ears turn a light pink, but he brushes it off. Derek glances back and drops down to the floor.

Stiles lifts up the tray and bag, "I brought a thank you." He sets them on the kitchen table and lifts one of the coffees to his lips. Derek crosses the room and glances down at the bag. He tentatively take the coffee.

"God, it's coffee and a muffin. It's not gonna bite ya," Stiles rolls his eyes at the apprehension. Derek glares but pushes the bag open and pulls out one of the blueberry muffins. Stiles smiles proudly and takes the other one. He takes a large bite and washes it down with the hot coffee.

"Good morning, by the way," Stiles bumps Derek's shoulder and takes a seat at the table. Derek looks down at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh come on, sit. Enjoy some coffee and a muffin. We'll get started in a minute. Don't be such a sour-"

Derek cuts him off, "Don't. I see you're highly motivated." He rolls his eyes and sits across from him.

Stiles smirks, "Hey, I'm on time. Bright and early, captain." He gives a sarcastic salute.

"Nine is not early," Derek counters.

"Is compared to the impressive streak I have of getting up at noon," Stiles tilts his cup back as he finishes the coffee in record time.

Derek already looks done and its 9:05.

He teaches him some basic defense moves; how to get out of someone's grip, how to throw a punch the right way, how to stand for better balance and reaction time, and what to look for to see what someone will do next. Stiles picks it up pretty fast to both of their surprise.

Around one, they take a break. Stiles can't help but be irritated that Derek never broke a sweat. Meanwhile, his hair is stuck to his damp forehead, and his shirt has a dark ring around his neck and on his back. He swallows half a glass of water desperately, still working to regain his breath.

"So, when are you going to see Scott?" Stiles nearly chokes at Derek's sudden inquiry.

"I, um, I'm not sure. I don't know if I.. if I can, I guess. I don't know if I can face them yet," Stiles shifts tensely.

"They're probably really worried about you," Derek doesn't look up at him as he gets himself some water.

"I may have gotten a few texts," Stiles mumbles.

In reality, he's gotten at least five texts a day for the past three weeks. Even a few calls. Also, Scott has shown up a few times at the house, only to be turned away by Noah. He just wasn't ready.

He felt so selfish. He knew Scott needed him. After losing Allison, how could he shut his brother out like this? Stiles knew he had Lydia, Issac, and even Kira. They'd have to be enough because he couldn't bare looking them in the eyes.

"You should reach out. You'll need your real friends again at some point," Derek turns off the water and looks over.

Stiles goes stiff.

_Real friends._

Derek seems to catch up on Stiles' sudden apprehension, "You know what I-"

"No." Stiles interjects, "No, I don't think I do. What do you mean by _real friends_?" His tone is harsh.

Derek looks surprised. He hesitates before finding the words, "Well, I know we've been seeing each other a lot more, and you've been getting closer with Erica and Boyd. I just was trying to say, Scott and Lydia, they've been your friends a lot longer. They know you."

"And you don't?" Stiles can't help the slight hurt at the thought of Derek not feeling like he knows him after everything.

"No, I mean," Derek lets out a frustrated sigh, " _Yes_. But only recently. I just thought.."

Stiles steps closer, glaring daggers at him, "Thought what?"

Derek starts getting defensive, he steps forward, "Don't act like I'm being an ass here. I'm just saying you should talk to your friends."

"Oh, you're not being an ass?" Stiles gets in his face, "Because you're just being a ball of sunshine right now?"

"You just don't want to admit you're avoiding them, and you cant do that much longer. You're just afraid," Derek spits back.

Stiles' eyes widen. Realization washes over Derek's face, and the tension falls from his shoulders. Stiles' expression softens as Derek's words settle in.

"Hey, I'm sorry. That's not.. You don't have to.." Derek can't seem to find the right words. He closes the small distance between them and gently touches Stiles' arm.

Stiles' eyes snap up to meet Derek's. _Wow he's close._ His breath catches in his throat.

Stiles turns and quickly gets on the elevator. He sees Derek's face right before the doors close. His brows were scrunched together in confusion as he watched Stiles.

Stiles catches his breath in his jeep. He shakes his head and drives home.

He doesn't go the loft for a couple days, but Derek doesn't come through his window either.

It's the longest time away from Derek he's had in three weeks.

He hates every second of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Stiles' heart _thumps_ loudly in his ears. He grips his bookbag tightly in the passenger seat.

_Come on. You can do this._

He pushes himself from the jeep. His feet hit the pavement, and his legs feel like jelly. He slowly approaches the entrance. Other students walk past him, rushing to meet friends after the long break. He feels like he's wading through water, trudging forward as he sinks.

Things were tense between him and Derek still. They got into the fight on Thursday, and now that it was Monday, Stiles was kicking himself for ruining things right before he went back to school. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the loft and have a movie night with Derek and the betas. There it was safe. There he could forget about the dread deep in his gut and the overwhelming guilt. Here, here it was almost more than he could bare.

Before he can push open the heavy doors, his eyes catch on a guy walking up the sidewalk. Stiles feels sick to his stomach. _Reed._ He'd seen him many times around the sheriff station. His dad was a deputy. Was. His dad died from the oni attack he'd- the Nogitsune'd ordered.

He stumbled in the doors, his head spinning. Making his way to his locker, Stiles tried to focus on the round lock. The numbers blurring and swimming around his vision. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, and his chest tightened. Stiles felt like he couldn't breath.

"Stiles! Hey, man," a hand clapped down on his shoulder, pulling him around to face its owner. Scott's lopsided grin greeted him. How he managed to be smiling baffled Stiles. You'd never guess he'd lost his first love only a month prior.

"Hey," he choked out. Stiles' eyes drifted back to his locker. Another hand reached forward and slapped his locker in front of his face. He jerked in surprise. This hand was thinner, with freshly painted nails and gold bracelets hanging loosely from their wrist.

"Hey? That's all we get after you space out for three weeks?" Lydia questioned without any real malice.

Stiles turned to face them and saw that Kira and Issac were following closely behind. He felt surrounded. The faces that haunted his nightmares were pinning him to his locker in a semi-circle. They gave him soft smiles and waited expectantly for what he was going to say.

"Sorry.. I just," Stiles couldn't do this. He couldn't find the right words.

"Hey, don't worry about it, man. I know. It's been rough. I think we all needed some time to process," Scott tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the faces all grew somber, like they all just remembered at once what they were trying to forget. It was like a punch in the gut for Stiles.

He gave a small nod. The bell rung, and he broke away from the group without another word. He'd have to try his locker again later.

-

Classes go better than he expected. Not that he paid attention to any of them. He made his way through the day like he was on autopilot.

Stiles made his way to the locker room after the last bell. He wanted to just go home, but he knew if he missed the first practice of the semester, Coach would never let him play. He put his things in the locker and started changing as the team began filtering in.

Scott came in with Issac, chatting loudly. Stiles finishes quickly and tries to avoid the pair.

He's no match for the werewolves' senses.

"Stiles! Hey man, glad to see you here," Scott pats him on the back. Stiles gives a stiff nod, avoiding eye contact. Scott studied him for a second before giving Issac a small pat, which he seems to understand and walks off, leaving just the two of them. "How are you doing?"

Stiles scoffs lightly, "Oh just peachy." He regrets it instantly, but Scott just brushed it off.

"I know you've been having a rough time with everything. Having your mind invaded like that.. I can't even imagine," Scott pulls him over to sit down on the metal bench between the rows of lockers.

"Ya, not the most pleasant of experiences," Stiles looks down at his hands, fidgeting slightly.

"Also, losing friends..." Scott sighs, "it's been hard on everyone."

Stiles gets a pained look on his face. He opens and closes his mouth, not sure what to say. Scott looks at him with those dark brown eyes, and they feel like they're stripping away his soul. Scott goes to question him, when Stiles suddenly blurts it out.

"I'm sorry! I know you must hate me. I'm so sorry. God that means nothing. How do I even try to apologize for getting Allison and Aiden killed," the words catch in his throat, forcing a small sob out with them. Then the tears started to well up in his eyes. Stiles pressed his palms to his face to stop them.

Scott looked at him with complete bewilderment, "Getting them- Stiles what are you talking about? _You_ didn't get anybody killed. You were practically a hostage to your own mind, which only happened because we all made the decision to connect to the Nemeton. The Nogitsune killed them. It used the oni and killed them. You had nothing to do with that."

Stiles could barely pull himself together. His eyes were puffy and red. He nodded in agreement, but he didn't feel it. Scott stared at him.

"You've been blaming yourself for their deaths this whole time? God, Stiles... no wonder you didn't reach out," Scott's eyes were filled with pity, which Stiles would compare to feeling like he was getting stabbed. Repeatedly.

A shrill scream cut threw the air between them and caused them both to wince.

_Lydia_.

They jump up and follow the sound. They reach the girls' bathroom just as Issac and Kira get there. Kira rushes in first before calling the others. Inside, Lydia is tucked tightly under the sink, terrified. Above her, the mirror is shattered. Stiles notices the blood in the center of the impact and follows it to Lydia's red-smeared fist.

"So many eyes... all staring..." she mumbles, wide eyed.

"Lydia, what happened?" Scott crouches in front of her, holding her shoulders firmly. The action seemed to ground her, as she snapped back into reality. Stiles reached out tentatively to rest his hand on her shoulder. She flashed him a soft smile.

"There were all these eyes suddenly. Up and down my arms. Totally disturbing if you ask me. Can one of you guys get the creepy visions for awhile?" she laughed and rolled her eyes, like it was all a huge inconvenience. Stiles wonders if she feels out of control all the time.

"So, you punched the mirror?" Scott looks down at the bloodied shards. She gives him a confused look before glancing down at her hand and wincing.

"Oh, ouch. Ya I guess I did," Lydia sighs miserably.

"Any idea what it means?" Kira cut in, coming a bit closer. Stiles glanced back at her but caught Issac's eye as he stood in the doorway, blocking anyone else from coming in. Stiles tenses and his throat tightens. Issac just offers a sweet smile, which helps him relax a little. At least he knows Issac doesn't blame him either.

"Not a clue. Nothing new," Lydia sighs. They help her up and get her hands cleaned up. "You guys go get to practice. I'll be fine," Lydia gives them a reassuring smile.

"I can stay with her for awhile and we'll see ya in a bit. We'll be in the stands," Kira gives a thumbs up and Scott nods.

The three guys exit the girls bathroom, earning a odd side glance from a couple girls. They let out a couple awkward chuckled.

"Ok, back to practice I guess?" Scott tilted his head towards the direction of the field. Issac began to follow, but they paused when Stiles didn't move. Scott gives him a questioning look.

"I think.. I'm gonna head out," Stiles mumbles. His nervous were starting to make his skin buzz with anxiety. He needed out of there.

"If you miss the first practice, Coach'll bench you for the season," Scott stared at him with confusion. He stepped towards Stiles, but stopped when he flinched in reaction. "Stiles, you can't keep blaming yourself," Scott's concern was clear as he planted himself a couple feet from Stiles.

Stiles hated how he couldn't stop causing more pain. He shrugged stiffly, "Tell him I'm sick or somethin'. I'll talk to him tomorrow. I just.. I'll see ya tomorrow." Stiles brushed past and slipped into the locker room, quickly grabbing his things and heading to the parking lot.

Once he's in the jeep, he groans loudly, smacking the steering wheel.

_Why can't you just act like everything is fine? Everyone else seems to be doing that. God, all their smiling. How are they all smiling so much._

Stiles turns the key and pulls out of the lot. His mind is spinning as he drives down the road. By the time he parks and pushes himself out of the seat, Stiles finds himself waiting for the loft elevator. He looks down at his gym clothes as he listens to the mechanical sounds.

He walks into the loft, not thinking much into his own invasion of the space.

"Stiles?" He hears a confused shut from up the spiral stairs. Stiles glances up and watches the man descend from the second floor.

"Hey, Derek. Sorry for just showing up-"

"Don't worry about it," Derek interjects, "How was the first day back?" He studies Stiles' face carefully, noticing his fidgeting hands.

Stiles lets out a dry laugh, "Oh just great. _Nothing's_ my fault. Everyone _loves_ me. No one looks like they've spend the last three weeks losing their mind." His shoulders slump forward.

"Everyone's moving on?" Derek steps forwards, and this time Stiles doesn't flinch.

Stiles nods miserably.

"But you still feel guilty?

Nod.

"Even though you were processed by a dark spirit against your will as a result of you and your friends trying to save your parents from an evil, mass-murdering druid?" Derek raises his eyebrow.

Stiles groans loudly, "Ok, ok I get it." Derek smirks, and Stiles punches his shoulder. Derek mocks offence, which makes Stiles burst into laughter. The anxiety of the day fading away.

Stiles looks at him for a moment, earning a questioning look from Derek.

"I'm sorry," Derek looks more confused, "For snapping the other day. I knew what you meant. I was being an ass. You were right, I was just scared." Stiles looks down and swings his leg nervously.

"I'm sorry too," now it was Stiles who looked confused, "I should have checked in. I knew you were heading back to school and how hard that was going to be. Giving you space may of been the wrong call given the timing." Derek looked uncomfortable with the sudden heart-to-heart. Stiles smiled and shook his head in disbelief.

"Ya no worries, big guy," Stiles pats his shoulder, and Derek gives him a firm frown. Stiles strides past him and flops down on the couch. Derek sighs and follows him over.

"I still wanna learn to fight," Stiles says softly, "If you're still willing to teach me."

Derek glances over, "Sure. Whenever you're free, you can come over here." Stiles smiles at the open invitation.

Their attention is pulled away from each other as the elevator opens.

"Welcome back, Stilinski," Boyd shoots over a welcoming grin. Erica Smiles widely and quickly comes over, jumping beside him on the couch.

"Done being a whiny bitch?" she beams at him. Stiles scoffs.

"Wow, good to see you too," the four settle in on the couch comfortably.

"Movie night?" Boyd suggests and Erica perks up. Stiles raises an eyebrow over to Derek, who sighs and flips on the tv. The three cheer as he starts a movie. Stiles smiles softly as he relaxes between Derek and the betas.

Stiles' eyelids started heavy as the credits rolled, but he insists he can go for another. He passes out before the title card hits the screen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz._

Stiles scrambles awake to shut off his alarm. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks around. His brow scrunches up in confusion.

_The loft?_

His eyes grow wide with realization. Stiles remembers falling asleep during movie night. He groans. He's alone now, but a pillow and blanket saved him from a cold night and a sore neck. Stiles wonders if Derek got them for him. His cheeks turn a light pink.

Stiles check his phone and cringes at the multiple texts and calls from his dad.

**Heading home, sorry my shift ran late.**

**Are you out?**

**Stiles where are you?**

**Answer my calls.**

**Derek just texted me that you're at his loft. May I remind you it's a school night? Don't make this a habit. Also, tell me next time.**

He sighs and texts a quick apology back. Stiles glances at the time and lets out a strangled gasp.

_7:22_

_Shit. School starts at eight._ He quickly grabs his bag and races over to the elevator. Before the doors close, he wonders where Derek was.

Stiles drives to his house and races up the stairs, changing into fresh clothes and trying to fix his hair. It was still poking out in random places when he gave up. He cursed himself for being too late to take a shower. He bounds down the stairs and reaches for the front door, but a hand clamps down on his shoulder.

"Stiles," his dad's voice was firm. Stiles spun around to face him and wore a plastered smile.

"Hey dad, sorry about last night. I went over there after school and just lost track of time," he immediately jumps in with his explanation.

"How did school go?" Noah's eyes rested steady on him. Stiles held back a wince. He knew his dad would want to know, but he just couldn't bare making him worry anymore.

"Good," Noah looked skeptical, "No really. It went well, dad. I know things have been rough, but it's getting better." Stiles tried to hide his fidgeting hands.

Noah seemed satisfied by this answer. He pulled Stiles into a quick hug then gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, "Ok, get out of here before you're late. I'll see you tonight. Text me if you're going out."

Stiles nodded quickly, "See ya!" He raced out the door back to his jeep, quickly making his way to school.

-

He made it there in surprisingly good time. Stiles shoved his books into his locker and checked his phone. Stiles noticed a message from Derek, but Scott came up and leaned beside him before he got the chance.

"Hey man. How are you feeling?" Scott looked at him with a comforting smile. Stiles forced himself to relax and try to focus on his best friend.

"Good. I'm fine, really" he assured Scott with a weak smile, which quickly faded as Scott's nose suddenly scrunched up. His face twisted up like he ate a lemon. Stiles just looked at him questioningly.

"Why do you reek of Derek?" Scott looks him over like he'll find the answer somewhere on Stiles.

"Stop smelling me jeez. That's so weird dude," Stiles shoved his shoulder and laughs. Scott starts another question, but the bell cuts him off. Stiles closes his locker and says a quick 'see ya.' He leaves Scott standing at his locker looking even more confused.

Stiles takes his seat and pulls out his notebook. He stares at the blank pages, his mind wandering before the teacher even started talking.

_I reek of him?_

Stiles thinks back on the shower he didn't take that morning and groans internally. How was he gonna explain to Scott that he'd been spending so much time with Derek when he could barely get through one conversation with his supposed best friend.

His mind drifted to Derek. Why didn't he wake him? Why did he put the effort in of getting him a blanket and pillow? Where was he this morning?

The bell pulled him from his thoughts. Stiles hadn't realized how much he'd zoned out. He grabbed his things and headed to his next class. He manages to make it through his schedule avoiding the pack. Lydia was the only one he couldn't dodge. She trapped him after his last class.

"Stiles. Quite trying to avoid us. Talk to me," Lydia's commanding tone had him frozen in his attempts to sneak away. He spun around and flashed a grin.

"Lydia, hey. Avoiding? Who's avoiding? Me? Not at all," he laughs and waves his hand like the accusation was ridiculous. She stared at him and frowned.

"No one can pin you down since we got back. How've you been feeling?" her eyes were filled with concern. She gently touched his arm. Stiles thought back on how, in the not so distant past, that would have made him literally swoon. Now he just felt overwhelming guilt.

"Better. I'm fine, really. Nothing a bit of lacrosse can't beat out of me," he gives a dry chuckle, "which I better be heading off to." He shifts out of her grasp and starts down the hall, but he pauses for a second, "Hey, anything new with the whole _eyes_ thing?"

She looks at him for a second before seeming to concede on some internal conversation, "No, nothing new." Stiles nods and gives a give wave before heading to the locker room.

Most of the team is already in and getting ready by the time he gets there. The coach stops him at the door.

"Stilinski! Where the hell were you yesterday? You know these practices aren't optional! I have half a mind to bench you for the rest of the season!" Coach practically screamed in his face, pointing and poking his chest for emphasis.

Stiles took a deep breath, "Sorry Coach. Normally, I'd come up with some excuse as to why, but honestly, the first day back just had me in a weird headspace. Anyway, it's not like I actually play much anyway, so either way, I'm just gonna keep showing up."

Coach's confused stare lingered on him for a moment before he let out an irritated sigh, "Go get changed." Stiles nodded and rushed off to his locker.

He was finishing up, pulling his shirt on and closing his locker, when Isaac came over and leaned beside him. Scott followed close behind. Stiles glanced over and shot them a questioning look.

"Hey man, you've been totally M.I.A. all day. What's going on with you?" Scott looked him over.

Isaac tilted his head and sniffed the air, "Why do you smell like Derek?"

Stiles groaned, "Both of you. Stop smelling me, jeez."

"Why've you been around Derek?" Scott searched his face for an explanation.

"It's nothing," he shrugs, "Been learning how to fight." Scott's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Fight? Fight what? Why did you ask Derek for help?" Scott started rambling in his confusion.

Stiles frowned, "Because I couldn't. Not when I should have been able to. I don't want to be the weak one anymore. Maybe if I'd been stronger, I could have fought the Nogitsune. Maybe I could have helped. Maybe I could have stopped them from killing-" His voice caught in his throat.

"Stiles? Stiles, are you ok?" Scott's eyes got wide.

Stiles coughed and wheezed. His hands shakily reached to his throat. He could feel the bandages, the strips of cloth filling his lungs. Stiles slid down the lockers, gasping. Scott and Isaac knelt down and held his shoulders.

"Stiles, you have to breath. Nothing was your fault. None of us could save them. You have to breath," Scott pleaded with him.

Stiles could barely hear him. His heart was pounding in his ears. He took quick shallow breaths.

Scott's eyes flashed red, "Stiles, Breath," his voice came out more as a roar.

Stiles' eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp gasp.

Isaac looked at Scott with a questioning glance, "How did you..?"

"I might not be his alpha, but he's still pack," Scott said firmly. Stiles stared at him for a moment before scrambling up to his feet. The two look at him with concern, reaching out to steady him. He takes an unsteady step back from them, shaking his head. His back presses to the lockers. Stiles reaches around and pulls it open. He grabs his back, swinging it onto his shoulders, and fighting to keep balance. Scott grabs his arm.

"Please let me go. I have to go," Stiles' voice trembled. Scott's grip loosened at the unexpected tone. Stiles pulled away and rushed out.

The cold air was a shock to his flushed face. His heart was still racing as he got to his jeep. He pulled himself in and threw his bag to the side. Stiles pressed his key into the ignition and left as quickly as possible.

He doesn't remember driving there. He doesn't remember pushing himself from the front seat or walking to the elevator.

The _ding_ as the doors opened snapped him back to reality. Stiles took a step back, considering if he had enough time to get away without being seen.

"Stiles?" _Too late_.

Stiles cringed and looked up to meet Derek's eyes. He opened his mouth to try to explain, but no sound came out. Derek's eyebrows furrowed as he grew concerned.

"Stiles, what's wrong? What happened?" Derek walks up to him, gripping his shoulders. Stiles looked at him with wide eyes. Derek quickly understood Stiles' quickened heartbeat and rapid breathing, recognizing the signs of Stiles' panic attacks. Derek slips his arm under Stiles', supporting his weight, and leads him back onto the elevator.

Derek gets him over to the couch and sits him down. He kneels in front of him and rests his hands on Stiles' knees.

"Tell me what happened," Derek's voice was calm and even. Stiles takes a wavering breath.

"Had a panic attack," Stiles said in barely more than a whisper.

"You're still _having_ a panic attack," Derek corrects him.

Stiles sighs, "Ya ok, maybe I am. I just.." He trails off as his vision starts to go blurry with tears. Derek remained quiet, giving Stiles time to form the words.

"I felt them," Stiles spoke softly, "the bandages. Like they were filling my lungs. I couldn't breath." His cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

Derek watched him carefully, "I understand. It's like a flashback. I used to get them after the fire." Stiles looked down at him as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Derek hesitated before pulling him into a tight hug. Stiles freezes at first, then sinks into his arms and grips him tightly.

They stayed there, sitting silently, for a long time; Derek gripping him tightly, as if grounding him to reality, and Stiles holding on like he'd crumble the moment they parted.

When Stiles finally pulls away, the redness from his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears. Before he can apologize, Derek cuts in.

"Do you want to work on fighting? We can spar?" Stiles smiles, knowing Derek was changing the subject for his benefit. He nods and the two stand up.

Derek starts explaining some move where you use the opponent's momentum against them to avoid an attack, but Stiles is barely listening. He's watching Derek's face, studying him. He feels.. _safe_. Derek catches his eye a few times but continues demonstrating.

"Now you try," Derek looks at him expectantly.

Stiles blinks, "Sorry, what?"

Derek sighs, "Try the move. I'll approach, and you evade."

Stiles nods, trying to ready his stance. He regrets zoning out.

Derek runs at him, quickly lifting him from his feet and pressing him into the floor. Stiles lets out a soft groan.

"Stiles, you didn't even try," Derek gives him a perplexed look, still hovering above him. Stiles stares up at him.

"How was I suppose to avoid that? You move at the speed of light," Stiles laughs lightly. Derek rolls his eyes and grips his arm to pull him up.

Stiles pops up, standing close to him. The air between them feels different. Stiles feels like it's charged and buzzing. Without thinking, he leans in and catches Derek's lips.

Derek freezes for a moment, and a rush of regret fills Stiles to his core. He begins to pull away, trying to prep his apology in his head before they even part, but Derek grips his arm tighter, putting his other hand on Stiles' waist. Derek kisses him back, and Stiles feels his knees go weak.

Stiles is surprised but leans into him. He takes Derek's face in his hands, wrapping his fingers around his head and into his hair. Derek pushes him into the wall, and Stiles feels like all the air leaves his body. He mentally decides air is a problem for later and kisses Derek deeply. The two are pressed together, not leaving any room for thoughts or doubts. Derek must of noticed Stiles' apparent lack of breath and pulls away. His eyes glow a bright, piercing blue that reflects against Stiles'. He turns away and apologies. Stiles is still slightly out of breath, but he shakes his head quickly. 

"No, don't. I started it," Stiles flashes a crooked grin. The two stare at each other without another word. Stiles starts to feel a twinge of guilt for enjoying himself for the first time in awhile. For that short time, he wasn't thinking about their faces and everything he'd done. Derek catches on to Stiles' shift and opens his mouth to question him, quickly snapping it shut when the elevator _dings_.

Stiles slips out from his grasp as the elevator doors slide open. He crosses the room and passes Boyd and Erica as they step in.

"Stiles, leaving already?" Boyd gives him a questioning glance.

"Ya jeez, we just got here. You that sick of us?" Erica pouts.

Stiles offers a tight smile, "Sorry guys. Lots of homework. Better get going." The doors shut and he lets out a shaky sigh.

Stiles sits in his jeep for awhile, touching his lips for a moment before driving home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Stiles walks into the dark house, tossing his keys on the table. His dad was working the late shift tonight, so he'd be on his own. At least he'd have time to think.

_I can't believe I kissed Derek. I can't believe Derek kissed me back. I mean, he's always been ridiculously hot, but didn't we hate each other? I guess not for awhile now. He's been so amazing. I feel like he's the only one who understands._

Stiles mind was racing. He trudges up the stairs and makes his way to his room. Stiles froze. The door was open. The soft glow from his light spilled out into the hall. His heart sped up, and he slowly made his way over to the entrance. He cursed himself for leaving his bat in the jeep. Stiles gave the door a nudge and peered in cautiously.

Stiles let out an irritated sigh, "Scott, what are you doing here?" Scott looked over at him and met his gaze.

He stood up from where he was sitting on Stiles' bed, "Where have you been? It's been hours." Scott looked him over as Stiles dropped his bag to the side and crossed the room.

"Nowhere really," Stiles shrugs and brushes him off. He stood in front of Scott and tried to look as casual as possible.

Scott only looked more confused, "Dude, why do you smell like that? God, if I wasn't looking at you, I'd think you were _actually_ Derek." Stiles knows he can't lie. If he lies, Scott will know, and the truth might actually kill him.

"I went to the loft after I left school," he thinks through his words carefully, "Derek and I worked on fighting skills for awhile to get my mind off of everything." Stiles tries not to smile at getting through without lying, "Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"I'm worried about you," Scott says like it's obvious. "You're taking too much responsibility for what happened. You can't blame yourself for their deaths. You were a victim like the rest of them. Maybe even more so."

Stiles laughs bitterly, shocking Scott, "Ya, I think the people I killed would disagree."

" _You_ didn't kill anyone, the Nogitsune did," Scott says firmly.

"I remember it. All of it. _Every_ death. I remember how the Nogitsune felt when it happened, and how it felt like he was _enjoying_ it. God Scott, I remember stabbing you. Laughing as I tricked you. It was a complete lack of control, but I felt all of it," Stiles says, his voice trembling. Scott tries reaching out, but Stiles pulls away. He looks down at his hands, and they're shaking. "I just want more control. More control over myself. Derek is helping me do that," Stiles explains, but he wonders if that will still be the case after today.

Scott nods, understanding how helpless Stiles feels. It's similar to when he couldn't save him from the Nogitsune to begin with.

_Bzzz. Bzzz._

_Ding_

They look down at their phones as they go off in unison.

"Lydia found a body. Her and Kira are at the school," Scott said, ready to jump to action. Stiles stared at the screen, sighing. _It never ends._ The dread feels bone deep. He pushes the feeling away and focuses on their next action.

They head down to the jeep, jumping in and making the familiar drive. It doesn't take long before they're pulling into the bus lot and parking beside Lydia's car. They spot the girls and make their way over. As they get closer, Stiles sees the body lying at their feet.

"We were studying and decided to go get some food," Kira frowns down at the body.

"So of course, I drive us somewhere completely different and find a dead person," Lydia sighs and crosses her arms.

"As one does," Stiles mumbles sarcastically.

Scott looks closer and his eyes flash, "They are- were a werewolf." 

It was a guy, around their age. Considering the location, Stiles figured they probably went to school together. They were lying splayed out against the pavement. His hair was matted with blood and plastered to his forehead. A thick, red puddle surrounded their head. Stiles looks closer; a single shot to the head.

"Hunters?" Stiles suggests. Scott smells the air near the body, but he looks confused.

"No wolfsbane. Not many hunters use normal bullets. Can't be a coincidence though," Scott furrows his brow as he thinks.

"Is it really impossible that it's a normal murder?" Kira questions, but they just stare at her. She puts her hands up in concession.

"I think he was a freshman," Lydia says somberly. Scott frowns and studies his face, like he wished they'd met. Stiles is glad he didn't know him. He's lost enough friends recently.

Stiles stood up straight and looked around them. He looked out from where the shooter must of come from, but it was just the empty lot. The body had no signs of struggle, but the shooter wouldn't of had cover to hide anywhere around here. Stiles looked perplexed.

_Did he just stand there and let himself get shot?_

"Well, I don't think we're gonna find anything else here. Seems pretty straight forward. I'm gonna call my dad," Stiles pulls out his phone as the group nods in agreement.

They wait for the Sheriff to pull into the lot with a few deputies. They tape off the scene and pull the kids to the side for questions, though they quickly realize they don't have any information to offer.

Noah lets them all head home, telling Stiles it'll probably be a late night. Stiles starts relaying the details he'd noticed, but his dad cut him off.

"Stiles, don't you think you should talk a break from trying to solve everything?" Noah gave him a concerned look.

"The bad guys don't take breaks," Stiles countered. "Plus, never a bad idea to know what's going on before it decides to attack one of us," he shrugs. Noah sighs and tells him to get home. Stiles frowns but agrees. He's tired anyway.

Stiles drops Scott off at his house, but they don't talk much on the way. He parks at the curb to let him out. Scott slides out but looks up at him. Stiles glances over. He wants his friend back. He wants to tell him everything going on with Derek, but he can't help but see the image of Scott with Allison's body. He turns away and grips the steering wheel tighter. Scott sighs, and they exchange quick goodbyes. Stiles drives home, his eyes burning and body aching with exhaustion.

He finally get home, pulling into the driveway, and pushing himself out of the front seat. His legs were heavy as he made his way upstairs. The house was silent and dark. He pushed his way into his room. He glances at the investigation board. _Better start on a new mystery, but tomorrow. Sleep now._ Stiles kicks off his shoes as he crosses the room.

Stiles falls into his bed as dead weight, groaning as he hit the mattress. Two days back and he's kissed Derek Hale and found a dead body. _What a day. What am I gonna say to Derek? Should I go see him tomorrow? Will he want to see me?_ Stiles sighed as sleep evaded him and anxious thoughts crowded in.

The window gives off a soft squeak, and Stiles sits up quickly. A tall figure stands, backlit by the moonlight shining through the window.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Stiles jumps to his feet, heart racing instantly. His eyes adjusted to the light, and he relaxes with a sigh. He reaches around and rubs the back of his neck to calm the goosebumps that formed.

"Jeez Derek, ya scared me half t'death," Stiles lets out a huff and crosses his arms. Derek smiles and leans against his desk.

"Sorry. Figured you'd expect it at this point," Derek laughs softly. Stiles shifts his weight side-to-side, getting defensive.

"Well, it's been like a week since you hauled your ass in here. Plus, it's almost midnight. Bit late, even for you," Stiles defends. He sighs, "It's been a long night though, and I can't say I'm not glad to see you." His voice got quiet at the end. Derek's face softened.

Derek looks at him for a moment before answering, "I thought we could talk about what happened earlier, but you reek of death. I'm assuming there are more important issues I should be aware of?"

Stiles lets out an exhausted sigh. He slumped back and fell against his bed. Derek watches him expectantly.

"I think I preferred when everyone was asking why I smelled like you," he grumbles.

_"What?"_

"Nothing. Lyds found a body at the school," Stiles waved his and and brushed off his previous remark. Derek cross the room and sat beside him, the weight causing Stiles to turn slightly towards him.

"Human?" Derek asked far too casually for the topic at hand.

"Nope," Stiles makes a exaggerated _pop_ on the 'p.' "Werewolf. Some freshman we don't know. Single shot to the head. Right in the middle of his forehead," Stiles raises his hand to the ceiling in the shape of a finger-gun.

"Where'd they find the body?" Derek's eyebrows furrowed as he collected the details together.

"Middle of the bus lot. Wide open parking lot. No signs of a struggle either. Just splayed out in the middle of nothing, but the shot looked close range," Stiles confused sigh.

"He didn't defend himself at all?" Derek sounded perplexed; rightfully so, Stiles thought.

"Not at all. Unmarked hand.. clean clothes.. clean shot," Stiles mumbles like he's listing pieces of a much larger puzzle. He glances up at Derek, who looks like he's studying the air in front of his face with fiery intensity. His strong features set tightly as he thought it all through. It makes him smirk a little before wiping the expression off his face. _Not the time Stiles._ Derek looks down at him, and Stiles quickly turns away but is sure he was caught. A smug smile flashes across Derek's face for a moment.

"Not much to go off of," Derek states flatly. Stiles agrees. He finds himself hoping it's just a coincidence that the guy was a werewolf. Maybe there's not something bigger going on. Though, that's more unlikely for Beacon.

Stiles' eyes drift back up to Derek, slowly drifting along his arms and shoulders. When he meets the man's gaze, a deep red settles over his features. They stare at each other silently. He's suddenly _very_ aware of how close they are, their knees barely touching. Stiles sits up, trying to make it less awkward; however, it just makes them closer, and he feels the body heat coming off of Derek like a generator. It takes everything in his to suppress a shiver from traveling down his spine. Derek's eyes a glued to him, eyebrows furrowed and intimidating. He looks at him as though he's looking for answers in Stiles' face. Stiles feels his heart begin to race.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says quickly on impulse. Derek's eyebrows raise slightly. "For the kiss. Earlier. I'm sorry. Today was intense and weird, and I think I just got caught up in it. Also, closeness, touching, bad for teen hormones," he lets out a tense chuckle. He was lying. He knew he'd let his eyes linger on Derek a bit too long, felt the buzz on his skin whenever they touched, and seeing Derek had been the only thing he looked forward to for the past few weeks. He wanted to do it. To kiss him. He wanted to do it again, but he lied. He lied because he didn't want to lose him to the awkwardness. Stiles didn't want it to push him away.

Derek nodded slowly, turning to look at the wall across from them. Stiles tried to look away, but he was stuck in those foggy, green eyes. He waited anxiously for Derek's response. Stiles was never good with silence.

"Are you gonna say something? Do you hate me now? Oh god, wait no, pretend I didn't say that," Stiles cringes at his own desperation. "I meant, like, are we good? Are things going to be weird now?" His lungs feel tight. Derek looks over at him with an unreadable expression. Stiles searches his eyes for an answer.

Instead, he watches as Derek lifts his hand to Stiles' face, cupping his cheeks gently. He leans closer and Stiles feels his eyelids fall as his lips press to Derek's. It was slower than before. Everything around them seemed to fade away as the world became soft touches and shared breaths. Derek pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Stiles felt the warmth deep in his bones, chasing away that horrible chill.

When Derek pulled away slowly, parting their lips, Stiles let out a disappointed noise he'd deny until he died. Stiles' eyes snapped open, feeling much more awake. Derek looked down at him with a gentle expression. Stiles felt like he could melt under those eyes.

"Why..?" Stiles asked no louder than a whisper. Derek smiles and something in him feels like it's glowing.

"You lied," Derek says simply. Stiles thanks the universe for those stupid werewolf powers, just this once. "Thought I'd take a chance on the truth being that we wanted the same thing," Derek looks down at him like he's still a little unsure. Stiles quickly nods and the man's shoulders relax. Stiles opens his mouth to ask more questions, but Derek stands and crosses the room. Stiles has to stop himself from whining at the loss of warmth. Derek turns and smiles at him once he reaches the window.

"Just had to make sure," Derek says before leaving.

Stiles sits there, dumbfounded. He stares blankly at the window.

_What just happened?_

He looked at the clock. _12:37._

Stiles sat there for awhile, mind racing but no thoughts being able to take a concrete standing in his stunned mind. He falls back against his pillow with a heavy sigh. A smile was plastered across his face, a fluttering feeling in his chest.

But then it crept in. That terrible chill that no warmth could chase away for long. That wave of crushing guilt that swept over his joy, killing the spark in his chest.

_They're dead. They're dead and you're kissing boys? Why do you get to be happy when they're dead because of you?_

He shut his eyes tightly and tried to clear his thoughts. Stiles pushed the thought deep back in his mind, away from the surface. With it, he felt a part of himself lock behind that wall. He took one shaky breath. Two. Three times and his hands steadied. Stiles pulled the covers up tightly to fight the chill and get some sleep.

-

The clock read out _2:46_ in a bold red.

His body felt heavy with exhaustion, but he tossed and turned. Just as he began to drift, he felt a deep sinking feeling in his gut and heard a loud bang of a gun. Stiles' eyes shot open and he gasped for air. _Not real. Not real._ He thought and tried to calm himself.

 _"Not real?"_ A familiar voice creaks out from the darkness across the room. Stiles jerks stiffly as dread settles heavily in his gut.

 _"Do you know what's real anymore, Stiles?"_ Stiles shakes his head violently.

"You're not here. You're gone," Stiles squeezes his eyes closed. He hears the footsteps cross the room.

 _"Oh, am I? Am I gone? You're still here. We're still here, Stiles. We'll always be together. You can't get rid of me. You are me,"_ Stiles could feel the breath against his face. His hands shook as he hugged himself tightly.

 _"WE Belong Here,"_ the voice was louder. Shouting in is face.

Stiles' eye shot open and he wasn't in his room anymore. The industrial walls of Eichen surrounded him. He tried to sit up, but his chest and wrists were strapped down with thick leather belts. It pressed into him as he struggles, making his lungs feel constricted.

"No! No, I don't! I didn't do it!" Stiles yelled desperately.

 _"Oh, but you did, Stiles. We did it,"_ he can hear the smile in the voice. It makes him feel sick.

"No, no, no..." he cries, "I would _never_ hurt them."

 _"You killed them. Scott hates you. You killed his first love. Lydia thinks you're a monster,"_ the voice fills his head. _"And your father, oh Sheriff Stilinski, he doesn't even know who you are anymore."_

"I'm _not_ a monster," Stiles' voice cracks.

 _"No, you're not, Stiles. You Are Void,"_ the bandaged figure comes into view at the end of the bed. Stiles tries to yell, but nothing comes out from his raw vocal chords.

The figure slowly pulls the dirty bandages from his head, unwrapping them and letting them fall to the bed at Stiles' feet. Stiles' looks up in horror as he meets his own eyes. Deep purple dark circles set his eyes back in their sockets.

 _"We Are Void,"_ he says clearly in a deep booming voice.

This time Stiles screams, ripping the covers from his body and pressing his back to the wall behind him.

His eyes adjust behind the tears streaming down his face. His dark room greets him. Stiles yanks his arms out in front of him, hands outstretched and shaking. He counts his fingers once. Twice. Three times just to be sure.

He sobs silently, knees tucked to his chest.

"I'm not a monster," he repeats softly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Stiles managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, not consecutively. He stares at his ceiling as his alarm rings out beside him. Slowly dragging his heavy limps from the mattress, he puts an end to its electronic screams. His feet drag as he walks to the bathroom. His chest tightens when he sees himself in the mirror. The sleepless night left him with purple-ish dark circles. The familiar sight twists his stomach.

He rubbed cold water from the sink into his face, hoping to pull himself from the memories. He looked down at his hands against the sink. Stiles counted his fingers just to make sure.

The chill settled deep in his bones. The hottest setting in the shower couldn't warm it. All he accomplished was making his pale skin glow pink and sensitive.

-

His hair is still damp from his shower when he comes downstairs. Noah sits eating toast and reading the paper in his uniform.

"When did you get in? I didn't hear you," Stiles prompts, pouring himself a thermos of coffee.

"About twenty minutes ago," the man sighs and rubs his eyes. Stiles' shoulders sag, knowing the toll those late nights take on him.

"Time to sleep before your next shift?" Stiles asks hopefully and smiles softly when his dad nods. "Good."

He grabs a pieces of toast, holding it in his mouth as he grabs his keys and the thermos.

"'otta 'o," he says around the toast and runs out the front door.

He slides into the driver's seat and flips on the radio, not really listening to whatever song vibrates the vehicle. 

Stiles drives to school, bobbing his head lightly to the beat. His mind drifts to the night before. Kissing Derek doesn't even feel real. He was tired. Maybe it was a dream? He's suddenly questioning the reality of his memory.

Before he settle on a conclusion, he pulls into the parking spot and makes his way inside. Heading towards his locker, he dodges people in his way. He reaches the familiar metal rectangle and pulls it open. However, his moment of peace slips away as quickly as it came.

Erica, followed by Boyd, close in on him. Stiles sighs and glances between them. They stare at him expectantly.

Erica scoffs, "Are you really gonna play dumb?"

Stiles mocks offence, "I never play." He smirks. Erica rolls her eyes and groans.

"Stop messing around," she crosses her arms and glares.

Now it's Stiles' turn to roll his eyes, "Not playing anything, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Erica barks out a harsh laugh, "So Derek comes back to the loft, absolutely reeking of you with this dopy grin on his face, and you have nothing to say?" His ears burn red. He tucks his head down into his locker and fiddles with his books.

"Ya, I mean, he came over. I told him about the dead wolf out in the bus lot Lydia found. That's it," Stiles shrugs.

Erica nodded, not buying it at all, "Ya he mentioned that, but I'm more curious why your heart rate changed at _That's it_."

Stiles cursed the walking lie detectors he was forced to interact with daily. He turned to face them, opening is mouth to attempt a carefully crafted 'truth.' Thankfully the bell for first period saved him the embarrassment.

He got to class and let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his seat. His shoulders tense when Scott slips into the seat behind him. Scott seemed to notice this and didn't press him to talk.

Stiles sat through class, barely paying attention. His mind wandered from the murder to the, now two, kisses Derek and he had shared. Stiles never really thought about being bi, but he also couldn't deny that he'd always found Derek annoyingly attractive. He never thought Derek could have had feelings for him though. _Feelings_ seemed like an over statement. They'd kissed twice, and though it made Stiles' heart flip both times, he had no idea how Derek really felt. Maybe it was just a physical thing for him, not that he really understood what Derek would find so attractive about him.

Stiles was so distracted by his ever changing train of thought, he didn't notice coach calling out his name until he heard the sharp sound of the whistle in his face. A bit startled, annoyed, and embarrassed, Stiles nodded along with coach's verbal berating.

Class ends and Scott catches up with him before he leaves the room.

"What's going on man? Are you ok? Yesterday was kinda crazy, and you seem really stuck in your head today. Also, when did you start talking to Erica and Boyd? Are you friends with them now?" Stiles stared straight ahead as Scott rambled.

Stiles shrugged, "It's a bit easier talking to them than you guys." Stiles almost regrets it when he sees hurt flash across Scott's face. He explains, "They were still recovering from the alphas' attacks, when I was possessed, and they didn't really see any of it. I just kinda like, ya know, being around two people who don't see me any different."

"I don't see you any differently," Scott says quickly and Stiles cringes. Scott sighs and nods, "No, ok, I get it." Stiles feels like he kicked a puppy when Scott parts to go to class. He sighs as he goes into his next class.

-

 _Lacrosse practice. Goddamn I'm getting through it today._ Stiles thinks with stern determination. He changed at his locker and grabbed his stick, walking out to the field with the look of a man on a mission.

Isaac came up beside him and raised an eyebrow. Stiles looked over at him and paused for a moment.

"What do you want?" Stiles questioned, and Isaac looked surprised at his tone. He recovered quickly and shook his head.

"Are you hooking up with Derek?"

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?!" Stiles shouted much louder than he intended. Isaac just laughed and nodded.

"Ok, I'll take that as a no," Isaac said still chuckling.

"Ya, duh. How- Why would you even- What made you think I was hooking up with Derek?" Stiles stared at him with wide eyes. Ya, maybe they'd kissed a couple of times now, but that was a big jump to _'hooking up.'_

"You just smell like him all the time now. Also, Erica told me about last night," Isaac shrugged.

Stiles sighed, _Of course she'd loop in her fellow beta, that traitor._

"Well, we are not hooking up and _never have_ hooked up," Stiles says clearly to emphasis that it's the truth.

Isaac nods, then pauses. He looks at him for a moment, "and will ever?"

Stiles glares and Isaac raises his hands up in defense laughing.

"Why do you even care?" Stiles jabs, beginning to start laps for practice. Issac shrugs, but Stiles sees some undefinable emotion cross his face. Realization hit him a little later than it should have. Isaac had been disconnected from Derek's life for a few months now. He'd lost so many people. Stiles knew how much the pack bond effected them.

Stiles' tone grows softer, "He misses you too. He's just too stubborn for his own good sometimes." Isaac turns to look at him, and there's a vulnerability in his eyes he hadn't seen before.

Before Isaac can respond, Scott jogs up to them, "Hey, whatcha talkin about?"

Stiles chooses his words carefully, "He was asking about what happened last night." Not technically a lie. Scott nodded hesitantly, noticing Isaac's emotions coming off in waves.

They jog laps around the field and Stiles' mind wanders from him again. Isaac's question _"and will ever?"_ echoes in his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Stiles' leg bounced restlessly under his desk. He stared down at his laptop, the words blurring in and out of focus. He let out a frustrated huff. Practice ended a few hours ago, and he needed to finish his English essay he'd been avoiding all of break. His dad was working late. Teens getting murdered usually led to extended hours at the station. The house always seemed so loud with silence when he was alone. The creaks and whistle of the vents turned to footsteps and breathing after the nerves set in. It all was making him anxious. Typically he'd go bug Scott, but things between them were so tense as of late. He considered going to the loft, but he wasn't sure what to do when he'd see Derek.

_Bzz. Bzz._

His phone vibrated against his desk, making him jump at the sudden sound. He grabbed it and pulling it to his ear without looking at the ID.

"Hello?" Stiles' eyebrows raised, waiting to hear who was on the other end of the line.

"Hey man," Scott's voice comes through like he's almost surprised Stiles picked up. Stiles fiddles with the strings on his hoodie. "So, my mom checked out the body and didn't find anything weird with the murder. Regular bullet. Single shot to the head. No other evidence she could find. I don't know man. Maybe the kid just pissed someone off? Maybe it _is_ just a coincidence?" Stiles frowns, not convinced.

"Nothing in Beacon is _ever_ a coincidence," he sighs. Stiles pulls up the news article about the murder, reading it through again.

"Ya, I know what ya mean. I guess we'll just keep lookin into it, but maybe you should take a break from looking into all this supernatural stuff," Scott suggests and Stiles stops scrolling.

"Why?" It comes out sharper than Stiles intended.

"Well, ya know, you're still recovering from all this stuff. Maybe it's best you take a step back?" Scott says cautiously. Stiles feels broken. He doesn't want to be seen as some fragile, useless human, who can't do anything to help.

Stiles' eyebrows furrow, "I'm not weak. I can handle myself." He winces the second the words leave his mouth. He hears Scott take a sharp breath in. Silence.

"uh.. ya man. I know," Scott's voice sounds small, "I just don't want you getting hurt." Stiles' chest aches.

He nods before the words come out, "y-ya. Sorry man."

"I'll talk to you later, ok?" Scott says quickly and Stiles barely gets out a response before the call ends.

Stiles slams his phone down to his desk with a loud groan. _How could I use her words like that?_

He presses his hands to his face and lets out a frustrated, muffled scream. He pushes back from his desk and paces across his room. Stiles feeling absolutely inadequate, can't help anyone, solve any problem, or even say the right thing. He leans against the wall and sinks with a heavy sigh to the floor. Stiles buries his face his his knees and tucks them closely to his chest.

_Stupid. Useless. Causes more problems than I can fix. I can't fix anything._

His mind races, and his chest gets tight. He hears the window squeak open and lifts his head from his knees. Derek looks down at him, concern in his eyes. Stiles looks at him for a moment before putting his forehead back to his knees. _Of course._

Derek steps closer and kneels down, resting his hand on Stiles' leg.

"Stiles, what's wrong? What happened?" His voice was heavy with worry, but Stiles just stays quiet and rakes his fingers through his hair. Derek gently takes his hands. "Stiles. Tell me what's wrong. Let me help," his voice was firm. Stiles looks up with wet eyes, his nose beginning to get red.

"I can't do anything right. No one thinks I can help, and they're right. I'm just weak, broken, human Stiles. I couldn't even protect my own mind. I was just some helpless puppet for a psychotic demon. I can't help anyone..." Tears were now streaming down his face. Stiles shut his eyes tightly, leaning his head back against the wall.

Derek reached out carefully and rested his hand against Stiles' cheek, "No. You're strong. You survived and helped destroy it. You're the smartest person I know. Ok maybe second to Lydia, but she's freaky," Derek smiles as Stiles lets out a soft laugh. "What happened wasn't your fault, and you might just need some time to recover. Your friends are just trying to look out for you. We could have lost you, and that's what has everyone scared."

Stiles meets his eyes, relaxing a little. Derek looks at him, taking in a his features. Even after crying, Stiles was so beautiful to him. He glanced down at his lips and leans closer. Stiles meets him halfway, pressing his lips to Derek's. Derek reaches up and puts his other hand on the back of Stiles' head, slipping his fingers into his hair. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, pressing them closer together. Derek parted their lips. Stiles panted softly, and his warm breath begged Derek to lean back in for more. Derek pulls Stiles off the ground, he smiles as he gazes into Stiles' deep brown eyes.

Stiles looked at him, searching for answers in his features, "What are we doing?" He's embarrassed the second the words slip out. Derek runs his fingers along Stiles' jawline. Stiles leans into his touch, and Derek smiles softly.

"Something we definitely shouldn't be doing. You're still in high school."

Stiles scoffs and rolls his eyes, "I'm only a year from eighteen."

Derek laughs, "You're still seventeen, Stiles..."

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's waist, pulling him closer, "Eleven and a half months. That's it. Plus, there's only like five years between us. That's nothing in the long run." Stiles leans forward and kisses below Derek's jaw. Derek sighs and hesitated for a moment before pressing stiles back against the wall and pulling away. Stiles smiles wickedly up at him.

"Don't. It's been hard enough since you kissed me back at the loft," Derek smiles.

Stiles looks at him with curiosity, "You liked me. Before. How long?" He suddenly understood that for Derek, these feelings weren't new.

Derek looks up to the ceiling and turns away. He hides the slight flush to his cheeks, "Stiles... I think I've liked you since you saved my life from the Kanima. I mean, you stayed there for hours. It was amazing. Even when I thought you'd let go, you came back. You always run head first into danger to save your friends. I knew for sure when you... when we found out the Nogitsune had taken you as its vessel. Everyone had their ideas how to stop it; by catching you, saving you, and... killing you. I knew I could never hurt you. Even if you weren't _you_ exactly. That's when I knew. Seeing you... it was horrible. You had lost everything that made you who you are. When they got you back, I felt like I could breath again. You came back," Derek faced the window, the cool light of the moon shining through.

Stiles looked up at him in awe. He had always been the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. He never would have guessed Derek had feeling for him, which seemed so insane to him. He was just... Stiles, nothing special enough for _Derek Hale_.

Derek smiles and turns back to looks at him, "Have a good night, Stiles." With that, he left without a sound.

Stiles let out a small sigh and walked over to his bed. He falls into his pillow with a muffled thud. He'd never finish that damn essay.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Stiles knew he'd smell like Derek again. He wasn't sure if he could even help it at this point. He's pretty sure his room smells like Derek. He just avoided Scott entirely to dodge the inevitable interrogation. Even Scott, in all his cluelessness glory, would catch on soon that something was up. Also, Stiles was sick of lying to his best friend.

He catches a knowing glance from Erica and Boyd before slipping into the classroom.

He crosses the room and takes a seat where all the chairs are taken around it, but all it took was one bossy redhead to ruin his plan.

Lydia slides into the seat beside him.

"Stiles," he glances over and meets those big eyes he loved for so long, "how have you been doing?" She flashes a soft smile. He shrugs, but her face tells him that won't be enough of an answer.

"I'm fine. Maybe not coping as well as I would of hoped, but it's getting better," he admits. She nods in understanding.

"When Peter used me to resurrect himself, it felt utterly violating. He was in my head. I saw him everywhere. I thought I was going crazy. I'd lose time, end up in different places, and even talk to people who weren't there. I hurt my friends. I hurt you, Scott, even Allison," she wore a tight, red frown. "I understand how you're feeling. Helpless. Used. Like it took who you were and turned you into a tool of violence towards everyone you care about." He stared at her in shock. Stiles hadn't considered how similar the experiences were and how much Lydia could relate. "Thankfully, no one died, but they could have. I couldn't of stopped it. Even now, when Peter hurts someone, I feel personally responsible. I know I couldn't of stopped it, and I can't stop him now. It doesn't mean that I don't have an irrational guilt towards all of it."

Stiles swallows stiffly and nods. She takes his hand and gives it a small squeeze.

"Thanks, Lyds," he whispers. She smiles sweetly and turns to face the front of the room as class begins. She always seemed to understand people better than most people. _She's... something._ He thought fondly.

Stiles catches Scott's eyes as he turns away. He hesitates, but he offers a small smile. Scott returns the smile and gives him a quick nod. Stiles knows he must of heard all of what Lydia said. Stiles looks at the board and begins taking some notes, barely following the lesson.

He thought about what Lydia said. _Irrational guilt._ He knew deep down that it was irrational, but he still struggled to fully move on. The nightmares came almost every night. Stiles thought, sometimes, he could still feel it. The void.

-

Lydia was glad she talked to Stiles. She understand what he was feeling and empathized with his struggles. She had nightmares for weeks after Peter's resurrection. Losing Allison still hurt every day. She woke up and felt the heavy weight in her chest every morning since. She thought she had more reason to feel guilty than Stiles. She's the one who they were there to save. Her best friend she'd ever had died saving her. She'll miss her forever for it, but there was not way she was losing another friend to the same monster. If Stiles lost himself to the guilt and trauma, it would be like the Nogitsune was still torturing them. She couldn't let it win.

Lydia gets to work on her meticulous notes. She changes pens, different colors to emphasis the information. She flipped between them quickly, switching every couple seconds.

_Thump. Thump._

She scrunches her eyebrows and glances around. She turns her attention back to the board, but the soft footsteps catch her attention again.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Lydia looks around, catching Stiles' attention. She brushes it off and shakes a dismissive hand to him. He watches her for a moment before turning back to his messy notes. She looks at the colored ink scrawled across her paper, trying to continue her notes. She writes furiously, keeping sharp focus on her notebook.

_**Thump. Thump. Thump.** _

Lydia's head snaps up, fiery hair whipping around as she looked for the source of the louder footsteps. She rubs her temples lightly. Stiles shoots her a concerned look, but she just give him a perplexed look. _Doesn't he hear them?_

_**Thump. Thump. Thump.** _ _**Thump.** _

She winces as the footsteps get louder, feeling more like pounding in her head. She leans forward to her desk, gripping her pen tightly.

_**Thump. Thump. Thump.** _ _**Thump.** _ _**Thump.** _

"Lydia, are you ok?" Stiles whispers beside her in a worried tone. She can barely hear him over the thunderous steps. _Oh no._

_**Thump. Thump. Thump.** _ _**Thump.** _ _**Thump. Thump.** _

Her eyes open and lock onto her paper. The notes she'd been writing look different than they did moments ago. Dozens of multicolored eyes cover her paper, overlapping and staring out at her. Lydia jumps up from her seat. _No no no..._

_**Thump. Thump. Thump.** _ _**Thump.** _ _**Thump. Thump. Thump.** _

Lydia can see that Stiles is standing and reaching out towards her. She catches Scott coming over in the corner of her eye. However, her eyes are locked on the girl sitting beside the window in the front row. She pushes away from her desk and steps towards the front of the room, the other students starting to give her odd looks.

 _"Wait!"_ Lydia screams out before the student lets out a sudden _yelp_ and jolts up from their seat, reaching up to touch their neck. The girl's eyes roll back as her knees give out and she crumples to the floor. The three of them are over her in an instant, the other students gathering soon after.

They recognize the familiar black veins spreading from where the girl touched her neck: _wolfsbane_.

"Call an ambulance!" Lydia kneels over the girl, glancing up at Scott for confirmation. He looks at the girl, eyes flashing for a moment, before nodding. _She's a werewolf._

Lydia supports the girl's head in her arms. She wishes she had super strength. She wishes she could magically heal. She wishes that she had fangs or claws. She desperately wishes that she was a human with no powers at all. The girl's body lies limply in her grip. The stranger's breath is shallow, and her pulse is weak. Lydia looks down at the girl she hadn't known until she felt her impending death, and she wishes she was _anything_ but a harbinger of death.

-

Stiles stares down at Lydia trying to wake up the girl he'd barely noticed prior to her sudden collapse. The inky veins stretching from a dark spot on her neck. He remembered how they'd reached down Derek's arm the day in his jeep, waiting for Scott to bring the bullet to them, and how Derek had been willing to cut off his own arm to escape the painful fate. He also remembers how stupidly attractive Derek is when he's angry. Probably not the best time to think of that, but honestly, when is Derek not on his mind?

The paramedics come in and lift the girl out. The three of them are out the door, rushing to the jeep, before the teacher can even attempt to stop them. He drives them to the hospital, following the ambulance the entire way there.

_Two's still a coincidence right?_


End file.
